


Flag Code

by DailyDaves



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DailyDaves/pseuds/DailyDaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But—</p>
<p>Oh god. Oh no. No, he wasn’t even the worst dressed out here. Ray Narvaez in his extra-large child size Teen Titans pajamas was not the worst dressed person standing out here freezing his balls off.</p>
<p>No, no, not at all.</p>
<p>But the tall shirtless guys, hugging his arms around himself, complaining in a thick British accent in the cold, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers with the goddamn American flag printed all over them, definitely was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flag Code

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted. Original prompt was: "The fire alarm went off at my apartment complex so we're all outside and you're wearing american flag boxers and I started laughing". I had a lot of fun with this one.

Fucking fire alarms.

No, really, _fuck_ fire alarms. They were the absolute _worst_. Especially when they went off at two in the fucking morning when there wasn’t even a goddamn fire.

Though, it wasn’t like he wasn’t up anyways. It was hard work keeping up that perfect gamer score, and Ray was currently in the process of grinding and leveling up in the newest expansion of whatever the fuck game, he honestly couldn’t remember. But what mattered was that he’d been interrupted, jolted out of his half-doze into the real, waking world and reminded with the blaring of an alarm that he was, indeed, an adult who owned an apartment and was therefore ‘in danger’ and had to evacuate. Unfortunately, there was no choice, especially when there were a dozen firemen screaming at you to keep in a single file line.

This night was not turning out to be a good one. Not at all. Nothing was even on fire! Well, he wasn’t a fireman, nor had he gone onto any other floor but his own, but that didn’t matter—the building looked fine from the outside and there were dungeons to beat and monsters to kill and levels to be gained. This was all a colossal waste of time.

Then again, so was the alternative. He was really just playing video games, but that at least was more important than standing outside shivering in his flannel pants and t-shirt in front of a building that was definitely _not_ on fire.

But—

Oh god. Oh no. No, he wasn’t even the worst dressed out here. Ray Narvaez in his extra-large child size Teen Titans pajamas was not the worst dressed person standing out here freezing his balls off.

No, no, not at all.

But the tall shirtless guys, hugging his arms around himself, complaining in a thick British accent in the cold, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers with the goddamn American flag printed all over them, definitely _was._

And holy shit did Ray feel bad for that dude. Though, clearly not bad enough that he couldn’t stop himself from nearly busting his gut laughing, because almost as soon as his mind processed that yes, that British muscular, snap-you-like-a-twig guy _was indeed_ wearing fucking American flag boxers, he was bent over laughing, his voice echoing through the full parking lot, somehow even louder than the stupid fucking fire alarms themselves.

When he’d finally semi-gotten over his fit of laughter, he looked up to see all eyes on him, and the British half-naked dude had stopped complaining to his shorter, blonde (and more appropriately dressed) companion and started staring at him, which was, to say the least, menacing, considering how absolutely _built_ this guy was. Built and tall and—holy shit, the least intimidating part of him had to be his face. He had huge eyebrows and smaller brown eyes, making him not look intimidating in the least, but more like a huge puppy who seemed to be slightly offended.

God fucking dammit, he _could not_ take this guy seriously. Not with a face like that and… Boxers like that. He was attractive, cute, but despite his build and height-advantage, Ray wanted to do nothing but tease him.

“Wha—What are you laughing at, huh?!” Said the scantily clad giant, who sounded more embarrassed than he did angry.

“Isn’t that against the flag code?” Ray raised an eyebrow, looking pointy at his boxers.

“This damn country’s ridiculous; I bought these here!” He all-but yelled it, as if he’d had to defend himself and those glorious boxers more than just this time, leaving Ray to wonder just how many times he’d been caught in the cold with only them on. He went back to mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for Ray to hear, “Fucking flag code. Against the rules to wear a flag. Bollocks.”

“Hey, hey,” Ray protested, grinning. “I never said it was against the flag code to wear one. I meant it’s against the law to drape a flag on a piece of _art_.”

And there was absolutely nothing more satisfying than the dark flush of cheeks he got in response, and the way the guy just stood there, shell-shocked by Ray’s shitty pick-up line, even as the firemen called the apartment’s tenants back inside.

Except, maybe, the next day, when Ray woke up to find a slip of paper under his door with a number written on it and words in nice handwriting—

_My name’s Dan Gruchy. I cordially invite you to correct this violation of your flag code. But maybe we can do dinner first._


End file.
